


UP THE CREEK

by Cat_Moon



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 22:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: The trope where Jack and Ianto go undercover as a couple.  Ianto is confused, Jack gets drunk, but it's all good.





	UP THE CREEK

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I'll be honest, this story popped into my head after hearing about the upcoming audio play where they are going to tackle this popular fannish trope. Part of me is interested, part leery, about the ways they might make me cringe, so I decided to give the story my own personal spin before it comes out. Also not a Brit. I endeavor to use British words (torch not flashlight), but will keep to American rules of grammar or spelling. Oh, and this is the first story I've written in many years. Hoping my creativity is back for good, I've missed it. I've had a TW novel in my head for about 8 years, and I actually want to write it someday.

UP THE CREEK

(paddle optional)

 

by Cat Moon.

 

Funny how a thing that make's one person's day can ruin another's. Funny how, sometimes, the things we think we're happy about turn around on a dime. Life is ironic that way. UNIT wanted Torchwood's help, apparently badly enough to actually enlist Martha to call Jack and ask. They probably figured that increased their chances. They'd be right of course, but the main reason Jack agreed was because he couldn't resist saving the day for them. The rift was going through a period of exceptional quiet anyway, and he was anxious to take on the challenge. Pride goes before the fall, so they say, but sometimes people jump willingly.

 

The team was sitting around the conference table on a dreary Cardiff morning, brain-storming on how to approach their assignment.

 

“I'm telling you,” Owen was saying, of course it would be Owen. “This is shite. UNIT just doesn't want to deal with it. Probably just sending us on a wild goose chase to make us look bad.”

 

Surprisingly it was Ianto who replied. He would regret that, later. “Their intel seems good, apparently from a reliable informant. They've already done some surveillance on the neighborhood, but the only thing they've found for sure is that the latest house purchase was to a couple who are actually Xfloriens.”

 

“So aliens moved into the neighborhood and no one noticed?” Gwen inquired. “Are they shapeshifters?” Gwen was understandably leery of those.

 

“Perception filter,” Tosh looked up from her laptop to answer.

 

“And the Xfloriens are notorious con artists,” Jack interjected. “If they're moving into a quiet Welsh neighborhood, there's a reason why that makes it our business.”

 

“I guess it takes one to know one,” Ianto muttered under his breath.

 

“Ahem,” Jack cleared his throat loudly.

 

“Well, that's sorted then,” Gwen said. “We just send someone in undercover to find out what they're really doing.”

 

“Already hacked into the system,” Tosh said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “We're in luck, the house across the street is available. They can be the newest couple to move in.”

 

“What poor sods get stuck with the job?” Owen wanted to know, warily.

 

“What a second here, who's the boss? I didn't approve--” Jack was cut off.

 

Tosh was nodding. “It would have to be someone _believable_...”

 

As if on cue, three sets of eyes turned toward Jack and Ianto, who was standing at his side having just served coffee.

 

Ianto's eyes widened almost comically. “What?! What are you all looking at?!”

 

“Perfect,” Tosh declared, hiding a grin.

 

“It's settled then,” Owen concurred, just glad it wasn't him. He started to rise.

 

“Hold on a second,” Ianto frantically blurted out. “Nothing has been agreed upon. You haven't even gotten Jack's approval.” He was desperately hoping for reprieve.

 

Jack, damn him, was looking only thoughtful. “It just might work...” he declared. “Good work team. Tosh, start on the cover story.”

 

Tosh nodded and rose, collecting her laptop.

 

Ianto looked around desperately. The only one besides him not looking satisfied was Gwen. Naturally. “Why _me_?”

 

Tosh took pity on him, pausing at the door. “Obvious.” her lips turned up in a slight smile at his expression. “Owen is dead, Gwen is married and couldn't be away from her husband that long and I,” she took a breath. “You know me, I'd be all awkward and weird. Besides which I'm needed here to man the computers.”

 

Up until the last sentence, Ianto had been about to protest. Unfortunately, she was right.

 

“It'll be a piece of cake for you, Tea-boy,” Owen slapped him on the shoulder on his way out the room. “Finally a reason to be glad I'm dead,” he added under his breath.

 

Ianto was thankful that was all he said, he could imagine the zings that might have come out of Owen's mouth. “This is a bad idea, honestly,” he tried.

 

“Oi!” Jack exclaimed. “I'll have you know there are a lot of people who would love to be married to me.”  He sounded a bit put out.

 

Gwen smiled a little sadly as she too rose. “Think of it as a holiday.”

 

“Bus-man's holiday,” Jack agreed cheerfully.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

As the clocked ticked down and arrangements were swiftly made, Ianto got more nervous. So much so that he had to speak up as he brought Jack his coffee that afternoon.

 

“I'll do _anything_   to get out of this. Just name it.” Even as he said the words, he glanced out the door to where Gwen was just walking past the office, and he wondered if that was indeed true. Would he leave it to Gwen? He sighed. “I'm screwed,” he whispered to himself.

 

“What's your problem, anyway?” Jack challenged belligerently. “Ever since we agreed on this assignment, you've done nothing but complain. Is it that abhorrent to you to play house with me?”

 

How to answer that? “No. It's not. That's the problem,” Ianto surprised himself with the honesty. He walked away before he had to hear any of Jack's standard excuses. He didn't need to hear it, it was on repeat in his head. _I don't do commitment. I don't believe in 21 st century labels. Can't promise. Don't do domestic. Torchwood operatives don't get normal lives_  (unless you're Gwen Cooper-Williams). Etc. Etc. Etc.

 

It's not like he didn't know that. He knew and accepted, had done a long time ago. And that probably made this whole charade even harder.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

Ianto had to admit, Jack pretending to be normal was eye opening. It was almost like some kind of kinky role playing, and that's exactly how Jack was seeing it if the look in his eyes was any indication. He kept shooting Ianto glances that promised some fantastic sex later that night. It made Ianto hot under the collar, although said collar tonight wasn't his usual suits. Just a simple jumper and jeans. He figured it would be easier to remember his role if he was dressed differently. A constant reminder of reality.

 

Jack too had forgone his typical look in favor of a black T shirt, jeans, and leather jacket.  He was wearing sneakers.  Sneakers!  Ianto couldn't seem to stop staring. Mind you, the standard package of Harkness and swishy RAF coat with it's own personality, the larger-than-life hero was always intoxicating. Still this simple, understated clothing was strangely exotic on Jack, rare as it was to see him dressed like that.

 

Ianto tried to keep his attention on what his neighbor was saying. It was their first evening in the new house, and they'd been invited next door for a few drinks, to 'get a break from the unpacking.' It was an opportunity to possibly gather information on anything unusual going on, and he needed to be paying attention to that, not how oddly enticing Jack was.

 

“Quiet street then, is it?” Ianto asked leadingly.

 

“Oh, we like to have our fun on the weekend, but not too late at night, don't worry,” Barry told him. “In fact, I'm having everyone over tomorrow. You're both invited.”

 

“We'll be there, thanks,” Ianto said. Hopefully it would be an opportunity to get the information they needed. The sooner this assignment was over, the better.

 

“Another lager for you then, mate,” Barry announced, taking the empty bottle from Ianto's grasp and heading to the kitchen.

 

Jack wandered over from where he'd been talking to the wife, Beatrice. He slid a casual arm around Ianto's waist. Ianto tried not to flinch, but from the hurt expression (quickly masked), he hadn't succeeded.

 

“You need to get into your role,” Jack said brusquely, under the guise of whispering sweet nothings in his ear. The contradiction made Ianto feel cheated. “Wouldn't kill you to act a bit more affectionate.”

 

“You know I don't like PDA's.”

 

“Well you have a job to do,” Jack said, releasing him. “Start doing it.” He smiled his best fake smile as Barry returned, declining again the offer of a drink.

 

Ianto took a long swallow of his second lager, vacillating between anger and acquiescence, knowing Jack was right. He needed to give in, play his part. He was supposed to be a professional. Yeah, professional alien hunter, Ianto Jones.

 

“So, how long have you two been together?” Beatrice asked.

 

“It'll be a year next month,” Jack lied smoothly. “Since we signed the register.”

 

“How sweet! Do you have special plans for your anniversary?” For some reason she addressed this question to Ianto.

 

“Uh,” he stuttered, mind racing. “Haven't decided yet.”

 

Beatrice frowned at him as if he'd failed at being a husband, or something ridiculous like that.

 

“Ianto isn't very romantic,” Jack tossed out, and Ianto felt absurdly offended. “I'm the hearts and flowers guy in this relationship. I have something very special planned, but it's a surprise.” He winked.

 

Something snapped in Ianto then. Annoyed, he handed his empty bottle to Barry. If Jack wanted him to get into the role, he'd get into his role. “Yes, well, I have something 'special' planned for later tonight, so we'd best get back and finish unpacking the bedroom.” He headed for the door.

 

Jack winked again, following.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

The doorbell rang the next day, just as they were about to head next door to Barry's cook out. Ianto let Jack answer it.

 

“Flowers for Jack Harkness-Jones,” the delivery man stated, thrusting a mixed bouquet into the surprised man's hands.

 

A few moments later Jack was slipping past a smirking Ianto, to put the flowers in some water. “Passive-aggressive much?” Jack asked.

 

“My best talent.”

 

“Not from where I'm sitting.”

 

“I can't believe you're wearing _that_ ,” Ianto told him, eyeing the gaudy Hawaiian shirt as if it might be a dangerous alien. Definitely no longer looking exotic.

  
“What, I'm supposed to be American. You have a problem with how I dress?” Jack asked archly.

 

“Ah, perfect, our first domestic,” Ianto snarked as he headed out to the party.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

“Looks like the whole block is here,” Ianto remarked when Jack joined him on the patio, glass of fruit punch in hand as he handed another to his pretend husband. His eyes were roving over the assembled group. Some were standing around talking. Kids were running around the yard playing. A few had undertaken an impromptu dance contest, twirling to the music coming from the speakers. They looked happy.

 

“Have you spotted the Xfloriens yet?” Ianto asked.

 

Jack slipped an obligatory arm around his waist, leaning close in order to avoid being overheard. “Over there talking to Barry. The one in the denim jacket, and the other is wearing the yellow sundress.”

 

“How can you tell?” Ianto asked, enjoying the closeness despite himself.

 

“Once you've had experience with perception filters and you know what you're supposed to be seeing, it's easier to get past it. Experience,” he told Ianto.

 

Of course Jack would know that, with all his experiences traveling through time and space, seeing universes and planets that Ianto couldn't even begin to imagine. So many things beyond a normal bloke from Wales.

 

The stress of trying to walk an invisible line was getting to him. The games, the thinly veiled barbs that could have been just for cover or could be more. So beyond Ianto Jones, yet here and now Jack was just a brash American in an ugly Hawaiian shirt. For this moment in time, however long the job lasted, they were two regular guys. _Just give in_ , a little voice inside told him. _Surrender_. _You can't win anyway. Deal with the fallout_ (and it would be bad) _later_. _You're good at that._

 

Ianto took Jack's glass and set them both down on a nearby table, grabbed his hand and pulled them into the dancing group. Maybe this time he could have Jack's attention, even if it was pretend. Maybe this time he'd figure out how to dance with another bloke and not have it be awkward.

 

Jack looked a question at him. The expression spoke volumes, he didn't need any words. But his arms went around Ianto willingly. Easily.

 

“This is my white flag, Jack.” That was the thing. He couldn't _pretend_. A good, believable cover involved being yourself as much as possible, while adding details that aren't real. Ianto knew this. Was actually good at it. His getting the job at T3 proved that.

 

Jack sighed and pulled him even closer, prompting Ianto to close his eyes and try to blank his thoughts. “We should do some neighborhood recon tonight, after everyone goes to bed. The sooner we get this thing wrapped up the better,” Jack murmured into the nearby ear.

 

“Amen to that.”

 

“I'll take you any way I can get you,” Jack suddenly said.

 

Ianto started at the abrupt change in subject and gave a harsh ironic laugh. “Funny, I thought that was my line.”

 

“You'd be surprised,” Jack said enigmatically.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

Ianto wondered if Jack was having any luck getting useful information out of his mingling. Ianto certainly wasn't finding out anything, other than reinforcing to himself that he was much happier being an alien hunter than having a nice, safe, banal, meaningless existence in the burbs. Still, that was something.

 

One glass of over-sweet fruit punch was enough for Ianto. He grabbed a bottle of lager out of the cooler that was set up on the grass.

 

“Did you want to take one to Jack?” Beatrice asked him.

 

“Jack doesn't drink,” Ianto answered. “He sticks to water, although he seems to be enjoying the fruit juice.”

 

“Oh dear,” she muttered.

 

Something in her tone alerted Ianto. “What do you mean, oh dear?”

 

“The punch has alcohol in it,” she admitted sheepishly. “The Flora's brought it, it's their specialty.”

 

Floras.  The alien's alias. “Shit.”

 

Ianto hurried over to where Jack was talking to a few of the others. He put an arm around Jack's waist. “Everything okay here?” he inquired.

 

“Wonderful,” Jack answered happily, kissing his cheek.

 

Ianto prayed he wouldn't blush. He was getting more used to these PDAs. That was another of those bad things. It was going to make going back to reality even more of a bitch.

 

“Such a cute couple,” the woman in the yellow sundress cooed. Ianto refrained from rolling his eyes. Just barely. Hadn't Jack said she was one of the aliens? He tried squinting and crossing his eyes to see if he could get past the filter. Maybe if he tried to picture her as blue with silver scales and three limbs...

 

Jack was beaming at the compliment. “Thank you. I think so.” He seemed a bit...looser than usual, but far from stumbling drunk. That was reassuring.

 

“Beatrice tells me you've said our little neighborhood is perfect for you. Are you two planning on starting a family?” she asked.

 

Ianto almost choked on his beer, but was saved from thinking up an answer when Jack did it for him. Although saved might not be the right word. And what the hell was with all this _you two_   stuff?!

 

“I'd love to have Ianto's babies,” Jack told her.

 

“Now that's what I call love!” Barry proclaimed, laughing.

 

“He's a bit d-drunk,” Ianto stuttered. “Jack, you might want to lay off the punch.”

 

“What for? It's delicious and I'm thirsty.” Yeah, definitely loose.

 

“Just so you know it's also boozed up.”

 

Jack started, and peered at his cup. “Oh shit. I didn't even notice.” His gaze turned suspicious. “How come I didn't notice?”

 

Ianto grabbed the cup and took a sip. Licked his lip, ignoring Jack's eyes following the movement. “Just tastes like punch to me.”

 

“This isn't good,” Jack declared. “We need to get home.”

 

“Um, he's allergic to alcohol,” Ianto explained, thinking fast. “About to start tossing up all over. Gotta go, sorry,” he added as Jack pulled him towards their house.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

“What was that all about then?” Ianto asked when they were back in the house, as he followed Jack into the kitchen.

 

“I think I figured out what's going on,” Jack answered, filling up a glass with water and downing it. “The Xfloriens are notorious as the bootleggers of their universe. They've probably got a still set up in the house, and they're making their special brew up to sell to the natives. It's especially tasty, almost irresistible. They can make a fortune. You'll have to sneak over and get a sample of the punch. We can have Tosh test it, to make sure.”

 

“What will you be doing?”

  
“Sleeping it off, I hope. We'll check out the house itself after everyone goes to bed tonight. If I'm right, we'll disable their still and politely suggest that they find another planet to peddle their product.”

 

“Okay. Is there something else different about this alcohol besides being exceptionally delicious?” Ianto asked.

 

“No, it's not dangerous. Well, no more than any of the earthly stuff.”

 

“Then why the urgency to get ho—back to the house?”

 

There was a long pause, then Jack sighed loudly. “It's because of why I don't drink.”

 

“And that is?” Ianto prompted when Jack didn't seem inclined to answer.

 

“Alcohol, it kind of hits me like a truth serum. When I get drunk... I tend to blurt out whatever's on my mind. No personal filter whatsoever. Got me into a lot of trouble back when I first got here.”

 

_What?? He tells the truth when he's drunk?_   Pretty temptations swirled through the evil part of Ianto's brain, even while the good part was shaking its head. He looked up to the ceiling in supplication. Was this situation going to get any worse?!

 

The silence was oppressive.

 

“No questions for me then?” Jack asked.

 

Ianto froze for just a second before composing himself. “Yeah. Shall I make some coffee?”

 

“Please. But that's not the kind of question I meant.”

 

Ianto started preparing the coffee. “I know. No, I don't.”

 

“That's one of the things I love about you.”

 

Ianto very carefully did not react.

 

“I wasn't too happy when I got stuck here, back in the 1800s. Waiting on the Doctor to show up and tell me why couldn't die. I got drunk... a lot. Used to get in a lot of fights, got killed a lot too,” short laugh. “I wasn't really used to Earth alcohol either, that didn't help matters. So I had the unfortunate habit of spouting my mouth off, about the Doctor, and other things I should have kept to myself. Everyone just figured I was a delusional drunk, all except for Torchwood. That's how they found me, and the rest of that story is history. Ever since then, I've stuck to water.”

 

“And coffee,” Ianto added, quietly stunned and taking in what Jack had just revealed.

 

“Can't forget about the coffee,” Jack agreed.

 

“Sorry I've been a bit of a prat.” Maybe the truth serum was affecting _him_?

 

Jack came closer, putting an arm around Ianto. He'd been doing that a lot lately, but right now there was no one to pretend for. Together they watched the coffee brew. “Tell me why?” he asked, gently, as if to keep Ianto from bolting.

 

Ianto closed his eyes. He felt obligated to match truth with...as close as he could get to it. He opened his eyes, and his mouth. “It's like being a diabetic. But you don't even like sweets, no interest in it at all, so that's fine. Still... you don't want to go and push your luck by working in a sweet shop.”

 

Jack was silent a long time, as Ianto waited. Finally, he spoke. “You know, diabetics can actually eat sweets once in awhile.”

 

“It usually doesn't end well.”

 

After a long moment of silence, Jack released him and went into the other room. “Life doesn't end well,” he said.

 

Ianto waited for the coffee to be ready, fixed a mug, and carried it into the living room. He set it down on the table in offering.

 

Jack was sitting on the settee, fiddling with one of their hand-held scanners. “I've got Tosh dropping by to pick up the sample.”

 

Was that a hint that Ianto should run right out and get it for her? He ignored it. “I feel like we're not on the same page. I don't even know what page _I'm_   on,"  he admitted. Funny how a little while ago he was being all noble and not taking advantage of Jack's inebriated state, now he'd changed his mind and decided to take this opportunity to try and get some things settled.

 

“Maybe you can let me know when you do,” Jack suggested. He picked up his coffee and drank half the mug in one go.

 

Ianto sank down into a chair, head down and hands running through hair. “I hate this.”

 

“Could be we've been on the same page all the long. Maybe that's why we're so good together... and such a disaster.” Ianto snorted at the truth of that. “If you want to ask me something, better hurry up, I'm sobering up.”

 

Ianto raised head and stared. “Leave it to you. Most people spout all sorts of nonsense they don't mean when they're drunk, you tell the truth.”

 

“I'm unique,” Jack agreed. “Go ahead, here's a freebie. Ask me anything.”

 

What did he want to ask? _Am I just a part time shag?_   (He knew that was no longer true, not since the whole dating thing, but still...) _Would you rather have Gwen, if you could?_   It wasn't true, it wasn't fair. He knew better. It was just that damn insecure streak that wouldn't die. _Do you love me?_   Maybe he was afraid to ask that one, even though a part of him knew a part of Jack did. Maybe. _Am I pathetic? Am I just another in a long line, or am I different?_ He knew he desperately wanted to stand out from the crowd. It was a big crowd.

 

Ianto looked around the neat little living room in the normal little community. And knew what he wanted to ask. Took a deep breath. He wasn't quite sure _how_ to ask. “If we weren't diabetics, would you want to eat sweets with me?”

 

Jack's gaze softened. “Oh Ianto. I would buy you a whole sweet shop.”

 

Ianto blinked. Not because there was any moisture in his eyes, it was because the air in the room was dry.

 

Jack rose and came over to him, hands going to cup his elbows. Ianto could already feel the warmth of his body. It never failed to affect him. “We would eat so much candy, we'd go into permanent diabetic comas.” He moved closer, and kissed Ianto softly on the lips. Then he moved to an ear and said quietly. “But don't forget, diabetics don't have to give up on sweets.”

 

It felt like a promise, an impossible one that filled Ianto with a dizzying sense of hope.

 

Then they let their bodies do the talking, as they did it so much better than words ever could.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

Later, after Ianto had nicked some of the punch and Tosh had analyzed it, they snuck into the Xflorien's house and found an elaborate alien still in the basement, proving Jack's suspicions correct. Not that there had been any doubt.

 

“What are we going to do about it?” Ianto had asked, as they stood there in the dark.

 

“Blow it up.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

And for an assignment he'd been loathe to take part in, Ianto found himself reluctant to see it end.

 

TWTWTWTWTWTW

 

A week had gone back since they're returned to _their_ real world, and Ianto was spending some obligatory time in the tourist office. Things between them had been...quietly contented since they blew up the still. It was nice to be topside for awhile rather than underground all day like the others, even if the place only had one small window. He was just considering popping out the door for a breath of fresh air when it opened. He put on his inanely pleasant civil service face.

 

“Good afternoon, can I help you?”

 

“Delivery for Ianto Jones,” the man said, stepping up to the desk.

 

His eyebrows raised in surprise, since he wasn't expecting anything. “I'm Ianto Jones.”

 

A nondescript bag was plunked down on the counter. “Sign here,” he shoved a paper at Ianto. As soon as it was properly signed, the man left with just a quick nod.

 

As Ianto cautiously looked inside the bag (can't be too careful), Gwen came through the door. “I'm popping out for lunch with Rhys,” she announced brightly.

 

Ianto quickly forgot her as he lifted the huge box of expensive Belgium Chocolates out of the bag. His mouth hung open in surprise. He recognized the brand. Belgium's oldest roasters, and the best cocoa beans West Africa had to offer.

 

“Ooh chocolates,” Gwen said appreciatively. “Lucky you.”

 

A smile broke out before Ianto could stop it. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I am.”

 

 

THE END

 

6/19/19

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
